Las Vegas: Keeping a straight face

I MADE my way to the cashier, changed $80 (£56) into chips, then took the vacant seat at the table. None of the nine players who were already seated said hello, or even acknowledged my arrival.

My fellow gamblers were a roll call of poker-playing stereotypes. On my right was a cowboy with handlebar moustache and Stetson, on my left, an inscrutable Oriental in wraparound dark glasses. Opposite, a big, fat guy with greased-back hair was riffling his chips, and a Shirley MacLaine lookalike was directing her hand-held fan on anyone who had the gall to smoke in her vicinity. The only friendly face was the dealer's.

If you look around and can't see any pigeons, then you're the pigeon, is a common saying in poker circles. The pigeon (sucker) had just sat down.

I was about to play poker in Binion's Horseshoe - the most famous place on the planet in which to do so. The World Series of Poker has been held here since 1970 and last May, 512 entrants coughed up $10,000 each for the chance to become world champ and walk away with $1.5 million.

The Horseshoe fills a block of Fremont Street, the so-called Glitter Gulch of downtown Vegas. This is the old and tawdry part of the city. Outside the neon-flashing casinos, showgirls promise passers-by a free pull on the slot machines. Pawn shops and strip joints line the side streets.

Downtown is just a couple of miles and a world away from the Strip, where the billion-dollar hotel casinos have replicas of the Eiffel Tower and the Bridge of Sighs, original Picassos in their restaurants, Tiffany boutiques and the most extravagant shows.

Pretty much the only reason to venture downtown is to gamble, and the place to gamble is the Horseshoe. Founded by the legendary Benny Binion in 1951 (a long time ago by Vegas standards), it prides itself on still being an old-fashioned joint: that is, cramped, noisy, smoky and, unlike the casinos on the Strip, gimmick-free. It even recently dispensed with its display of $1 million in $10,000 bills.

Lately, the casino has been touched by scandal. In May, a topless dancer and her lover were convicted of the first-degree murder of Benny's son, Ted, after a trial that had dominated the headlines for months.

Deep in the recesses of the casino is its far-from-glamorous poker area. Under strip lighting and security cameras hidden in black half-globes are a dozen or so baize-covered tables. The only hint that this is somewhere hallowed is the wall of photographs of world champions.

For a round-the-kitchen-table player like me, for whom banter, beers and sarnies are as important as winning a few hands, a game of poker at the Horseshoe is as thrilling, and as nerve-wracking, as a set on Centre Court at Wimbledon for a club tennis player. The big difference is that you don't need to be any good to play poker at the Horseshoe. In fact, they prefer it if you're lousy, because you'll lose all your money more quickly.

I stood for ages by the low wooden balustrade separating the players from the onlookers, trying to summon up the courage to sign up for a game. Eventually, I placed my name on the list for the lowest limit Texas Hold'Em, the kind of poker that we play back home and the kind that is played at the World Series. Twenty minutes later, just as I was about to sneak off, the game was called.

The stakes were not intimidating: you weren't allowed to raise more than $4 at the start of the hand, and $8 later on - limits that were less than I was used to at the kitchen table. But the betting was conducted at dizzying speed, and I was terrified of committing a faux pas.

My fingertips were so sweaty that once, as I pushed my face-down cards towards the dealer in the middle of a hand, I accidentally flipped one over. A couple of opponents tutted. You know that feeling when you arrive at a party where you don't know anybody, and want to leave immediately but feel that you have to stay awhile to avoid appearing stupid or rude? Well, that's just how I felt at the poker table.

I decided that the easiest way out was to lose all my chips quickly. I therefore began to bet quite heavily but, unfortunately, I started to get decent cards. I won a couple of $50 pots, one with a pair of aces, the best possible hand you can be dealt. "He wasn't exactly bluffing," said one player to another as I raked in the chips - as if it were a win that did not really count.

At least no one else seemed to be having much fun either. Every 10 minutes or so, waitresses would come round calling out "Cocktails! Cocktails!", but the only requests were for mineral water and coffee.

After what felt like a respectable length of time (it seemed like hours, but was probably little more than an hour and a half), I cashed in my chips. I was only $40 up, but I had survived, and it felt like a million dollars.

One way to beat first-time nerves is to sign up for a spot of coaching. Many of the casinos offer free lessons. The best, I had been told, are held at Caesars Palace, perhaps the most wonderfully kitsch of all the Vegas joints (centurions wander around greeting guests, and waitresses dress in revealing togas). The lessons are conducted by Barney Vinson, an avuncular gentleman who has been part of the Vegas scene long enough to be able to tell tales of Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin in their Rat Pack days.

I joined one of Barney's blackjack lessons, practising with valueless chips at a table in the middle of the casino. To give the impression that we were real gamblers, Barney put up a sign saying, "Table limit $1,000-$5,000". A passer-by stopped to watch us. "You want to join in?" asked Barney. "Are you joking? That's way out of my league," came the reply.

Barney ran through the basics about when to stick or twist (or, as the Americans say, stand or hit). "Remember you're trying to beat the dealer, not get as close as possible to 21," he added. He also dispensed money management techniques, such as adding a chip to your minimum bet when you win a hand and just replacing the bet when you lose.

Most reassuring was his advice on etiquette. Never touch the cards: tap the table if you want to hit or wave your hand over the cards if you don't. Dealers, he explained, don't respond to verbal commands: the security camera has to be able to see what's going on.

Sitting next to me was Carol from Texas. "Every time I come to Vegas, I hitch up with Barney, to refresh myself on the strategy and make me feel more comfortable," she explained. Whenever she turned over a 21, she whooped and hollered "just like Barney has taught me".

After a while, Barney handed us over to a regular dealer. If we wanted to continue, we now had to play for money, but instead of the casino's normal $5 minimum bet, we could wager as little as $2and, since we were beginners, the dealer dealt slowly and answered our dumb questions.

It was the perfect introduction and I hit a lucky streak. After an hour, I had hardly become a high roller in the Kerry Packer league, but I had won enough to ask the dealer to "colour me up" - those magic words that mean you want to change your low-denomination chips into higher-value ones of another colour.

It was a good moment to stop. But, of course, I didn't. I headed back to Binion's Horseshoe to try out my new-found skills. And there it all went horribly wrong.

Without wishing to get too technical, many of the Horseshoe's tables operate single-deck games geared to connoisseurs, where it is easier to predict which cards are coming up than in the multi-deck games played at most casinos, including Caesars. At the Horseshoe, the cards are also dealt face down, so you are on your own and even the etiquette is different. To hit, you scratch the corner of a card; to stand, you slide your cards under your chips.

On paper it sounds straightforward, but under pressure I couldn't get the hang of it. "You're not concentrating," said the humourless dealer. My luck had deserted me, too. At $5 a pop, I managed to blow all my winnings in 20 minutes.

Getting thereVirgin Atlantic (01293 747747) has a new, twice-weekly non-stop service from Gatwick to Las Vegas, from £449 in October.

Staying thereOne of the most fun and best quality mid-priced hotels on the Strip is the New York New York Hotel and Casino (001 702 740 6969). As in all Vegas hotels, rates vary dramatically according to season: in October, rooms are from £90 but can be as low as £55 at other times of the year. Packages are available through Virgin Holidays (01293 617181).